Tracking Dry Leaves
by Konstantinsen
Summary: When Dipper and Mabel returned to Gravity Falls for their fourth summer, they didn't expect Wendy to be lodging in with them at the Shack. Neither did they expect having to deal with three new deputies who seem intent on suppressing all threats to Gravity Falls by any means necessary.
1. Chapter 1 - Roomie

Mabel squealed as soon as her eyes had adjusted to the rows of virgin pines blurring past the window. Dipper stretched out his arms against her as he settled out of his seat on the bus.

"We're almost there!"

"No need to yell in my ear, Mabel."

The highway stretched on for several more miles with little to no traffic coming the other way. Mabel pointed to a sedan that had whizzed past on the other lane. "That's number...fifty-two!"

Dipper sighed. "We lost count after thirty, remember? Besides, the rules were teamsters only."

A van whistled by. "Fifty-three."

The younger of the two settled back into his seat with a little smile cracking through his docile facade. He wasn't going to play this game again. But, with Mabel, he couldn't just call it quits. "Fine. Fifty-four."

"Where's the car?"

Dipper pointed to the idle police cruiser parked on the side of the road as the bus began to slow to a stop. It had the decorated shield of the Gravity Falls police force stenciled over the door frame. Oddly enough, it was vacant.

"Where's Sheriff Blubs?"

The twins pressed their faces against the plexiglass until a deer leaped out from median and into the woodlands. The uniformed officer that followed it wasn't as chubby or as lean as either of the two cops they knew. Rather, he was well-built and stood with unusual confidence for a lackadaisical enforcer. The face they saw when he turned towards the bus was completely new.

"Road's clear," he hollered to the driver.

The bus shook once, pressure from the pistons hissing free, then began to plod forward, passing the cruiser as the officer was joined by two more who looked less relaxed.

Dipper and Mabel followed their gaze until all three pairs of eyes met with theirs. By then, they disappeared when their shuttle rounded the bend, shrouding them behind scores of trees.

"Who're they?" Dipper asked.

"New friends?" Mabel said with a questioning grin.

Her brother shrugged. Leave it to his sister to consider every stranger a potential playmate. "Never mind."

"Looks like the Gravity Falls police is hiring."

"Mabel, I don't think they actively go recruiting. It's a volunteer force, right? I mean, isn't that the reason why Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland are the only cops we ever see when we're here?"

Mabel pressed her finger to her lips. "Well, there was the dispatcher at the station and the guard who likes to play with crossword puzzles."

"Let's not visit the county jail again this time, okay?" Dipper groaned. "You know what? How about we keep things a bit more in check, this summer. We're old enough for that."

A mock salute was his quick reply. "Yessir, Corporal Dippingsauce!"

* * *

"Soos! Wendy!"

The porch bore the weight of several hugs, ruffles, and nudges as the Pines twins met with the Mystery Shack's manager Soos and the only other employee on staff Wendy.

"Hey, dude! Glad to see you again," the redhead greeted, her eyes now level with his.

Dipper chuckled. Being fifteen, he was now as tall as Wendy. "I could say the same for you. What'd we miss?"

"Not much, really," Wendy replied evenly. "Dad's got this sweet new deal for this piece of territory that nobody's logged before. He was really excited about it—first time I've seen him that giddy for a plot of land since I was ten."

"That's great."

"Yeah, I know." The redhead glanced briefly at the floorboards before perking up a smile and shouldering Dipper inside. "Come on in, dude. Business is so-and-so but Soos has been keeping it afloat without the town having to point the tourists to us."

"Cool." Dipper sauntered to the living room and stifled a grin at his great uncle Stan's favorite yellow couch. He could guess that Soos had Abuelita stitch up some of the errant rips in the leather. "Anyone still sitting on that?"

"Who doesn't? Go ahead."

Dipper barely set foot onto the carpet of the familiar room when heavy footfalls reverberated from the staircase. Mabel's voice, teeming with excitement, came screeching over the bannister. "Dipper! We have a new roommate!"

"Wait, what?"

The Pines twins rushed upstairs, barely noticing Wendy's nervous chuckling. Soos joined her at the base of the steps, his hands on his hips.

"I think they'll like having you around," he buoyed.

The redhead breathed deep. Eighteen and she had finally moved out of the Corduroy family lodge...for reasons other than being eighteen. "Only one way to find out."

* * *

"There goes your meditation window," Mabel chimed.

Dipper felt his hands ruffle through his hair as he took in the folded blanket, pillow, and other articles of clothing that hung off the walls. The cushioned sofa that rested by his favorite reading spot had since been converted into someone's sleeping quarters. Interestingly, most of these personal effects were somehow familiar. The tartan shirt, the muddy fur boots, the tight denim pair resting against the planed oak...

"Oh, God..."

"Surprise," came the rocky answer from the doorway.

"Wendy! I didn't know you'd be lodging in with us," Mabel nearly screamed while she bolted from her bed and wrapped her arms around their new bedfellow.

Dipper turned to the redhead. His cheeks, he felt, were redder than her locks. "Wendy? Wh-why here?"

"Long story, dude."

* * *

 _"Alright, boys," the sergeant says. "These nut jobs have some real firepower."_

 _Hector Vanchetti taps his vest. "We're ready for 'em, sarge."_

 _Horace Benning nods over his shoulder. "Ready."_

 _The sergeant nods back and signals for the initial breach. An operative swings the hammerhead against the varnished sequoia, smashing the doors open and sending splinters flying back._

 _"Hands up in the air!"_

 _"Show me your hands!"_

 _"Get down! Now!"_

 _A series of explosions rock the walled complex._

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 19, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: February 20, 2017**

 **UPLOADED: February 20, 2017**


	2. Chapter 2 - Cops

Mabel failed at hiding her amusement at her brother's self-inflicted dilemma. He sat there across the room, huddled on the edge of his head, half his head buried in his hands as he gawked at Wendy reclining by the window where he himself would spend hours mulling over mystery after mystery.

"So, yeah, my dad's pretty much like, 'you're eighteen now so you can move out' and I'm like, 'not just yet!'"

"And here you are," Dipper maundered.

Wendy smirked. "Hey, come on now, dude. I'm good company. I promise I won't fiddle with your journals."

"I hid them."

Mabel only grinned, flashing her retainers against her brother's face as he tried to look comfortable with that statement. "You still like her. Right, bro-bro?"

"Mabel, please—" Enough with the infatuation, already, Dipper wanted to say. He was over it. Right?

"Trust me, dude. I won't infringe on your territory." Wendy held up her hand to reinforce her point. "As long as you don't cross into mine."

Dipper could only stare as his two close friends laughed. He was fine with Mabel's glitter and sparkles and paint littering every corner back home in Piedmont. The same was true over here in Gravity Falls. With Wendy, though... He recalled that he had been to her place a few times to watch movies and even he couldn't get used to her stuff lying around. Now he had to deal with this for three months? "You could've at least e-mailed us about...this."

Wendy shrugged. "Sorry but it was all of a sudden, y'know? The house got trashed like a couple days ago. And you know how hard it is to get a good signal up here. Just ask Tambry."

"Trashed?"

"Was it some kind of monster?"

The redhead took in the pairs of glazed charcoal pupils that bore into her. She glossed over Dipper's expression of half-surprise and half-confusion, contrasted with the budding curiosity on Mabel's. "One that made me move in with you guys. But that's a good thing, right?"

Dipper groaned as he took a soft jab to his arm. "You're not going to make this easy for me, huh."

"Aww, broseph, we're not that cruel." Mabel snuck in a wink at Wendy before loosing another chortle. "Besides, we love you."

"Yeah, yeah." Her brother pointed to the laundry basket pressed against the corner. "Just keep your clothes over there, please." If anything, he wouldn't want to find female underwear in his bedsheets. Being fifteen was not easy now that he had to share living space with a girl he used to crush on. But that was years ago. He was long over it. Right? Right.

Wendy stooped over and picked up an article of clothing behind Dipper's bedpost. She held it up against the sunlight beaming through the window, waiting patiently until the little mister Pines went steamy red. "Forgot my bra there by your headrest. Sorry 'bout that."

"This'll be an awesome summer!" Mabel rasped. Lingerie flew across the room and landed in the basket. "Three points for our MVP Wendy Corduroy!"

The redhead angled her head at the male twin. "You do know how to keep your hormones in check, right?"

"Did you have to ask that!?" Dipper bawled, hands sweaty for the first time in a long time.

* * *

The squad car pulled up to the dirt path that served as the driveway to the Corduroy home. The three officers made their way across the open yard, passing what remained of the family's RV—now crumpled like a crushed beer can—and rounding the half of the lodge that had been reduced to splintered rubble. They found the hulking lumberjack halving blocks of wood against a weathered stump.

"Mister Corduroy?"

Daniel 'Manly Dan' Corduroy rested his axe over his shoulder as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Officers. Didn't expect you to pay me a visit," he boomed.

Deputy Vernon Stonewick flashed him a quick smile. "Well, we're going to need your help if we're going to catch that thing that did this to your house."

Manly Dan glanced at the cop's two subordinates shifting their gazes away from him. If they were intimidated, they were good at not showing it. "Seems like your lackeys are less interested in being here."

Stonewick craned his head behind him and chuckled lightly. "Don't mind them. They're still settling in, after all."

"So how can I help?" the lumberjack offered dryly. "As you can see I'm rebuilding the guest room."

"I thought that was your daughter's room."

"It's the guest room," the lumberjack coolly corrected.

The senior officer had already whipped out his notepad, pen hovering over the citrine page. Might as well ease in slow and steady; Manly Dan looked like he could take all three of them down with his bare hands. "Can you tell me more about this so-called 'Grass-Man'?"

For a moment, Stonewick could read the hints of annoyance on his interviewee. It was brief but two years of police work in Portland made him catch the slightest detail. At least Mister Corduroy was more receptive this time. "What can I say that you don't know?"

"Just your personal observations. Details that you think no one else seems aware of."

"Other than the fact that _it_ has been tearing apart homes that are too far from the main square," Manly Dan spat. He wedged the axe into the ground and sat on the stump. "I don't know what it is. Dead leaves, branches, twigs—hell—maybe even timber that hasn't been chopped up. It's made up of those bits, walking around with legs covered in dry leaves, two arms turning into six on a whim. And it doesn't like people going into the woods, as far as I can see. One mean scary bastard, if you ask me..."

* * *

Stonewick was rifling through his notepad when he reached his squad car.

"Well, boss?" Hector Vanchetti asked, square chin up and eyes weighted by lack of sleep.

"Best lead we got."

Horace Benning snickered. "You keep saying that, sir."

Vernon tucked his pages into his front pocket and zipped up his jackets all the way. Even with these boa lining on the sleeves and collar, the air felt a little too chilly for the onset of summer. Weird. Everything in this town was weird. He exhaled and almost caught a breath condensing into vapor off his lips.

"So far, the Grass-Man only hits isolated targets. Homes that are far from the town proper. Usually ones high up, secluded, surrounded by trees. And it uses whatever piece of nature that isn't tied down to wreak havoc."

"The monster's made out of foliage?" Horace mused. "How can you kill that?"

"Fire?" Vanchetti shrugged when the other two threw him glares. "What? Everything can be killed with fire."

"Let's not get too excited here, boys," reined Stonewick. "Stick with what we've got and what we've got is a potential weakness for our woodland terrorist."

"We still don't know what it wants or why it's rampaging around like that," grounded Horace. He paused then simpered at his contemporary. "You think it's related to New York, Heck?"

"I'd rather hope not. Best keep those nut-jobs buried where they fell," came the quick answer.

Vernon eyed his subordinates. "What makes you think there's a connection?"

Benning raised three fingers. "One: the weirdness going on around here; two: that triangle statue that we found on our first week; and three: that underground complex under the town museum. Sir, I suspect there is—or was—a chapter here."

"A chapter of what?"

"The damn cultists," Hector spat.

The deputy circled the vehicle and flicked the keys on the ignition. The engine came to life just as Vanchetti and Benning slipped into the back seat. "Alright. How bad was New York?" he asked over the gravel crumpling underneath the tires.

"It was supposed to be a routine SWAT bust—"

"Damn it, Horse, it wasn't 'routine'!"

"Alright, SWAT was supposed to take down this group. Really peculiar group. It didn't go well."

"Pyrrhic mission," Vanchetti mumbled.

Horace leaned against the mesh separating them from their supervisor. "Sir, it's pretty obvious that Sheriff Blubs is keeping us in the dark here. Everyone from Lazy Susan to the damn mayor is in on this and I don't like it one bit."

"And that triangle statue?" Vernon pressed.

"Boss, that thing—whatever that creepy illuminati crap is—was in New York. We saw it there." To Stonewick, this was the first time he heard the normally brash Vanchetti sounding so shaken. "And it's here chiseled into some kind of sick bust. I'm thoroughly creeped out and if ever that thing is going to come alive—and I've got no doubts that it will—I'm going to blow it up with every stick of dynamite in the evidence locker."

The squad car was silent for a full minute. Vernon thought it through. When they were called to help exterminate some unusually large rodents infesting the town museum, they had to track them to the basement where they had discovered pressure tubes lining the walls and hallways that extended past storage units for relics. Hell, they even found dirty old scarlet robes and a bunch of other odd paraphernalia relating to some mysterious forgotten order.

"This town has a fascination for eyes," he mouthed.

Hector heard him and sounded even more worried. "Is that what everybody's fetish is? Wide-eyed illuminati crap? 'Cause there was a lot of it in New York and it was on a damn triangle."

"With arms, legs, and a top hat," Horace completed.

* * *

 _Vanchetti groans as he pushes the wooden beam off his body. "What the hell..."_

 _"Heck? Heck! Is that you, buddy? You okay?" Benning calls from nearby._

 _Hector waves away the wisps of smoke and crawls over the unresponsive forms of his fellow SWAT operatives. He picks out Horace's form hunched against the cobbled archway leading to the sanctuary._

 _"Horse—damn it—what the hell happened?"_

 _"I don't know but everyone's down. Tac is gone," Horace recounts as he grips his silenced carbine hard enough to make his knuckles go pale._

 _"Radio command. God, are we the only ones..."_

 _"I think we are. Sarge is down. Entry point is blocked. No word from Bravo team. We're trapped in here, Heck."_

 _Vanchetti coughs and waves away the smoke seeping through the cracks above the rubble behind them. He drags his shotgun off the floor and checks the chamber. "We're trapped in here with these lunatics. We're on our own."_

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 19, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: February 25, 2017**

 **UPLOADED: February 25, 2017**

 **NOTE: Thanks for giving this story an eye. It's mostly inspired by a series of Let's Plays of an old game called _SWAT 4_. The premise has been juggling in my mind for years until I finally put it down here. Hope you guys are liking this. Constructive criticism is all the more welcome because I'm trying to expand my English vocabulary here.**


	3. Chapter 3 - Boat

**NOTE: This chapter's a little longer. I'll try to make the rest shorter.**

* * *

Dipper woke up to a particular cold rush in the room. Though the attic was built to trap in heat, which often helped turn the whole Shack into an oven during hot days, his feet were freezing under his blanket. He shifted in his bed until his leg met some resistance.

"Mabel, later..." he buzzed while desperately trying to bury his head in his pillow.

"It's an hour after sunrise, dude. Wake up."

That wasn't Mabel. Wait. Where was he? Dipper pulled himself to sit and rubbed the blur off his eyes. He was back at the Shack. Mabel was sitting on her bed, grinning? What's she so cheery about today?

"You almost missed breakfast. Soos'll be here in like an hour so..."

"Don't worry, Wendy, I'm up, I'm up." Wait. Wendy? Dipper bolted upright to the tune of Mabel's sudden laughter. "Gah!"

"Forgot that I'm with you guys?" The redhead poked. Strands of her hair were curled in a mess above her scalp while the rest ran down her shoulders over a modest shirt. She had already switched out of her pajamas but still looked like she lived here with the jeans that replaced them. Because, technically, she now did. And she was sitting on the end of his bed, poking his ankle like a pet frog.

"Oh, God..."

"What? Not used to living with a girl?" Wendy looked across the room and smirked. "Aside from your sister, of course."

"No. No, I haven't," Dipper croaked, his hands worming around his head. To think this was going to get easier as the weeks would roll by. Might as well suck it up, he mused, and get on with the day. "What's for breakfast?"

"Depends on who's cooking."

Mabel leaped onto the floor. "I'll cook!"

"No, Mabel." Her brother turned to the redhead. "I'll have eggs and bacon. _Just_ that."

"Coming right up," chorused both girls.

"No glitter, Mabel. And don't let her put glue in the fryer, Wendy!" he yelled after they disappeared down the stairs. He dropped back onto his mattress and let out a defeated sigh. "Why, why, why here of all places out there?"

* * *

Breakfast wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. Wendy had a refined skill set with the kitchen—given she was the only girl in a family of "manly" dudes—and Mabel had managed to keep her art materials out of the frying pan. Perhaps living with another chick in the Shack wasn't so bad. Wait. Chick? Dipper cupped his palm over his forehead. Okay, so Wendy was now a chick; that was fair to say.

"You're doing the morning dishes, bro-bro."

"Why me?"

"Because _we_ cooked," Wendy said, dropping her plate into the sink. "And it's about right that we shift you to cleanup duty. Bet you didn't see that coming."

"Dipper hates chores," Mabel snickered behind a mock whisper.

"I do _not_!" her brother growled over the noise of tap water flowing down a hill of soiled cutlery.

* * *

Soos waved as the three teens filtered out the front door. He had just flipped the sign on the glass to WELCOME! WE'RE OPEN when they were already lined in front of it. "Stay safe, dudes."

"Will do."

"Don't worry about us, Soos."

Now outside, Dipper leapt into the golf cart. He slid the key into the ignition and speedily backed up close to the totem pole that acted as a homing beacon for gullible tourists in case the massive sign overhead didn't convince them. Mabel squeezed next to him, effectively being sandwiched by Wendy. Dipper hunched slightly, his taller frame now squeezing out the little space that allowed him to move without brushing against his passengers.

"Which direction?"

"West," Wendy replied. "I'm sure that's where it came from." She pocketed her phone. There was no point in using GPS if the signal up here had been going from bad to worse since the start of the month.

"Easy on the stick shift, bro," Mabel remarked, sounding less thrilled.

For the first time in the day, Dipper grinned. "Aww, you know me, Mabes. I'm better at driving than you."

"Right. I'd rather you keep your eyes on the road this time."

The redhead noted how tight the female Pines had gripped the handlebar bolted onto the dashboard. She craned her head over her shoulder as the cart began hopping roughly over the gravel. "You didn't crash anything back in Piedmont, right?"

Dipper slowly eased his head away. "Um, nothing really serious, you know?"

"He crumpled the fender on Dad's car more than once," Mabel chuckled.

"Alright. Top speed it is."

Laughter turned to screaming when the cart rebounded off a hardened clump of dirt on the road and speared into the woods. All the while, Dipper relished the speed. Good thing he brought his jacket; it was getting cold outside and the wind shearing across his skin was no relief. Nothing unusual for Gravity Falls, though.

* * *

"Hey, guys! Look here!"

Dipper and Wendy nearly tripped when they turned on their heels. The ground was muddy from the recent drizzles, making for a decent slide back down onto the trail that they had carved into the underbrush a few summers ago. Mabel craned over a displaced branch jammed into the soil. Beside it, a fresh trail snaked up into the darker woods.

"This wasn't here before, right?" Dipper asked.

Wendy shrugged. She stooped down and brushed away some dried leaves revealing blades of grass crunched under discernible boot marks. "This is new."

Mabel narrowed her eyes as she scanned mass of timbre. "You think this leads to the monster?"

"Mabel, I don't think this monster uses size elevens," the redhead corrected.

Dipper tapped his chin. "Wendy, is this part of the logging area?"

"Dude, I would've told you if we were trespassing." For a brief moment, Wendy had a look of disappointment take over her features before she started marching off down the fresh trail. "Besides, it's not like my dad thinks I'm interested in taking up the family trade."

Mabel tugged at her brother's sleeve. "Come on, Dip. This looks interesting."

He acquiesced. This would be a nice start to the summer, even though the atmosphere was unreasonably crisp. Odd, though, that there were fresh boot tracks here that sort of originated from their own little trail. Very few people knew about it or he could be wrong. Gravity Falls tended to harbor some explorative residents at times. "Let's see where this takes us."

* * *

"Whoa."

The thousand-ton fishing boat was completely out of place if one were to ask most anyone not from Gravity Falls. Blanketed in moss with vines growing over the hull, the vessel looked as though it had simply fallen from the sky, cratering a pair of unmarked pine trees, and forming a tiny glen high up in the unadulterated woodlands of the county.

"Dude, this is..."

"This looks so cool," Mabel drawled.

Dipper had taken off his weathered woodland cap to wipe the sweat beading down his temples but had ended up scratching his scalp. "How did this...get here?"

"I don't know but dibs on the cargo!"

Before the boy knew it, both girls had clambered over a piece of felled hardwood. He called out to them but they were in deep in the cavity of the dilapidated vessel. How long had this been here anyway? A decade, perhaps? It looked perilous and any attempt to put any weight on it might cause some sections to fold in and collapse. "Guys! We don't know if it's safe in there!"

Dipper nearly froze when Mabel shoved herself through the wide glassless window on the pilot. Her upper half disappeared in the interior before both her legs unceremoniously slipped in. He nearly choked calling her out and began frantically scrambling atop the hull and onto the deck.

"Mabel!"

"Ahoy, matey!" she called from the bridge. Her hands were already gripping the wheel, sliding around the severely rusted rim in the pretense of steering it. "Arr! I see treasure ahead! First mate Wendy, lower the anchors!"

Wendy chuckled from the railing outside. "Captain Mabel, we're beached!"

"Mabel, be careful with that! You might get tetanus—" Dipper's voice went up a few pitches then faded as he tumbled down a wide open hatch.

Both girls whirled and ran to the hole. Much of the interior was dark but they could see him straggle to his feet. A hand waved up at them while the other rubbed his pelvis.

"What's down there?" they called.

"Gee, thanks. I'm fine," Dipper groaned. So much for concern. He looked around. There was a set of stairs bolted to the far wall to his right. Across from that was a sealed door which probably led to the engine room. Around him, though, were some large wooden crates. Odd. For all the grime and overgrowth painting every corner, these looked fairly new. Skid marks painted the floor and from the looks of it, they had been dragged across the grated steel to where they now sat. Come to think of it, isn't this where they would usually store the fish? "Guys, there's something down here!"

"Buried treasure!" he could hear Mabel bleating.

"Dibs on the gold doubloons!" Wendy crowed.

By the time they filtered through the stairs, Dipper had both his hands planted firmly on the rims of an open box. Forget Spanish coins, this stuff—and everything else around him—had alarm bells blaring in his head. When he could hear them practically going all giddy behind him, he reached in and tossed them an unlit flare.

The excitement died down quick. "This looks...new."

Mabel muscled beside her twin and felt her jaw go slack. The box—no, it was a crate—was full of them. Branded pyrotechnics were strewn over each other in a disorganized heap, all capped and looking like they were skimmed off an armory somewhere.

Wendy meandered across the hold to a solid steel table bolted to the hull. "Whoa... Awesome."

Dipper gawked at what she picked up. "Is that a hunting rifle?"

"Ooh! Let me see! Let me see!"

"Hold it there, Mabel." The redhead held the gun close to her chest in a humble display of the black scoped Remington."I don't think you guys know how to handle these."

"Hey, I've used guns before!" the eager teen protested.

"Mabel, your grappling hook doesn't count."

"It shoots grapples!"

Wendy aimed the barrel at one of the shattered portholes on the wall. The scope looked freshly cleaned while the whole shooter weighed heavier than she expected. "This thing's chambered. You want to try this on some trees?"

"I thought you said we're not ready to—" Dipper stopped himself when he heard a muffled conversation echoing from outside. He brought a finger against his lips; the girls got the message immediately. It sounded far off but it was getting louder and there was no doubt that they were headed to the boat. Whoever stashed these supplies was coming back for them and Dipper knew from experience to always get on the good side of the folks that could very well make him bleed.

Wendy had replaced the weapon on the table and began yanking on the lever of the door. Surprisingly, it swung wide, hinges audibly scraping against the rust. The twins rushed in, squeezing against the ugly mass of machinery as the redhead forced herself inside. The door clicked shut and Dipper hoped—and sweated—that whoever was outside didn't hear that.

 _Keep quiet_ , Wendy mouthed.

Heavy shoes pounded from above. Then came to the hatch, down the riveted steps, and eventually...

* * *

"I'm telling you, sir, that Shack is like a warehouse for these people," Horace pitched as he reached for the Remington. "They lead the tourists to it, they buy into the superstitious mumbo jumbo it sells, and they're all apathetic if someone starts pointing out the crap that's all over the walls. It's like everyone's got this willing suspension of disbelief when it comes to all the weirdness!"

"Manager seems too reasonable to put up a fake act like that, though," Hector remarked. "I can tell that he ain't the one who founded the business."

Stonewick filtered through the flares in the open crate. He pocketed a few sticks before smacking the lid back into place. "Damn it. Cover came loose again. Should nail in some hinges to keep it from popping out."

"What about those two kids who just moved in?"

In the engine room, Dipper and Mabel gawked, eyes wide as saucers as they kept their hands pressed against their mouths. Wendy held onto the latch so tight that her fingers where white; she bit down on her lip to kill the squeal that was running up her throat.

"Those Pines kids? Harmless California teens."

"Why are they staying at the Shack then?"

"Because I think they're related to the owner." Stonewick's voice finally registered in Wendy's mind and she mouthed, _I know them_ , at her two nervous friends.

"Weren't they the grandkids of the old coot who used to run that place?"

"Then that explains why they're lodging there then. I wonder how that Corduroy gal is taking to them now that she's living with them. She works there, too; can you believe that?"

Vanchetti huffed, the noise of cartridges being shuffled out of cartons and the metallic clicks of shells being fed into the chamber audible enough to be heard through the steel. "Seems like her dad's fine with her out of the house."

"It got hit by the Grass-Man, remember?" Benning sounded a bit irate. "What? You think Manly Dan summoned some nature freak to tear apart his own daughter's room so he could get her to move out and get her own life? And let it run amok afterwards? Doesn't sound smart even for a mountain man."

The redhead could feel the twins looking up at her. She shrugged in the tiny space that was available. Not the right time and place for that topic.

"He doesn't seem to be that kind of dad." Stonewick chuckled. "But let's focus on the Grass-Man. We think— _think—_ that fire can damage it. We've got enough incendiaries for that."

"How're we supposed to track it then? It doesn't leave any footprints. And even if it does, how can we tell them apart if it ain't too obvious? Boss, who knows where it'll turn up next."

"I tell you,"— _that's Officer Benning_ , Wendy mimed—"Sir, that Mystery Shack is probably the apex of all this. Some kind of vortex that attracts all this freaky stuff that we're only seeing now. The fact those twins have some kind of pull all over town is grounds for something we should know about as law enforcers."

"Yeah, Boss." _And that's Officer Vanchetti._ "When we saw them on that bus, I could tell something was off with them. Hey; didn't some of the townsfolk say that that, uh, what's-his-name, uh... Dipper! Yeah. That Dipper kid used to trot around with these numbered tomes and wherever he goes, weird stuff happens."

"Sir, what if _they_ summoned the Grass-Man? What if they have this thing at their beck and call? You know what that means!"

The teens felt the atmosphere in the engine room swelter and they had to inch around quietly to wipe beads of trickling sweat. Suddenly, Vanchetti sounded directly behind the door. "Boss, I don't want to hurt the kids but if we have to, I've got a hundred anti-depressants at home that'll take care of—"

"No one's hurting anybody," Stonewick growled. "Not yet. And not them."

For the next moment, all the Wendy, Dipper, and Mabel could hear from behind the riveted steel of the door was a mix of footsteps and equipment being shuffled around. Though there was little illumination, the redhead was aware at how terrified the twins were. Even she felt worried for her own safety—she barely knew these new cops and they were now scaring her. Sure, they were the first responders when the house got it. Sure, they shuttled her to the Shack with all her personal belongings. Sure, Deputy Stonewick was really, really nice...

"Flares, check. D.B. rounds, check. What else did we miss?" the deputy from Portland boomed.

"We're all good, sir. We ready to go hunting?"

The Stonewick that replied was icier than the warm, comforting enforcer that had gone out of his way to help her settle into the Shack's attic less than a week ago. "Remember, boys: we are here to serve and protect. Whatever it takes. No sudden impulses, no roguing. We gathered this arsenal for a reason. We are going to protect Gravity Falls from this Grass-Man even if we have to burn it to ash with what we've got. If anyone gets in the way, then we know what to do."

"You didn't have to give us the whole pitch again, Boss." Hector Vanchetti was already on the stairs. "I just don't want to have to shoot those kids."

"No one's shooting anybody, Heck." Horace Benning followed shortly. "Not yet."

Wendy glanced around in the dimly lit room. Minutes after the voices faded back into the woods, Mabel began to sniffle. They were safe now; they all left. But the redhead mindlessly held onto the handle until Dipper nudged her to yank it loose.

* * *

 _"Entry team to TAC, entry team to TAC."_

 _Static rings through the handheld receiver. Horace tries again and finally hears command beckoning through the noise._

 _"Entry team, this is TAC. Do you copy? I repeat. Entry team, this is TAC. Do you copy?"_

 _"Copy, copy! We got hit. They rigged the entry points with explosives. No response from Bravo team. Alpha is down. Alpha is down."_

 _Beside him, Hector peaks around the doorframe and sees an armed man run across the sanctuary. He pales upon seeing the distinct Kalashnikov design bouncing in the perp's hands._

 _"Automatic weapons, probably chambered with AP rounds. These nuts knew we were coming; they were waiting for us," he mutters as Horace finishes debriefing their superiors._

 _Benning drops the radio with a loud moan. "Command is sending in relief but I doubt they could get in here."_

 _"We're going to have to smash our way through," Hector says. He peers again; banners bearing pentagrams are draped against the enclave where the pulpit has been overturned. "Just you and me, Horse."_

 _Horace stares at his partner. "Heck! What about sarge?"_

 _"No pulse. We might end up like them if we don't move now."_

 _"Oh God..."_

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 20, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: March 3, 2017**

 **UPLOADED: March 3, 2017**

 **NOTE: Let me know if some characters are behaving…out of character. Just so you know, the twins are fifteen while Wendy's eighteen so it's a little difficult to get them to act that age while retaining their childishness from the original series.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Unnerved, Part 1

**NOTE: I felt the last chapter was a bit too long so I decided to chop this in two and post the other half later.**

* * *

The door nearly came unhinged as it swung off the frame and slammed against the rusted steel wall. Wendy stumbled out first, catching Dipper and Mabel who very nearly fell onto the floor. Sweating and covered in grime, the feeling of momentarily relief had been washed over by the dread from the officers' revelations.

Mabel held onto her brother's arm to steady herself but didn't let go. "At least they didn't check behind them, eh, broseph?" she said with a nervous chuckle.

Dipper gawked at her. He had to hand it to his sister. Even in the direst situations, she still somehow managed to stay cheery. He had to admit, her gaiety was what kept him from losing it during crisis points. It was amazing how she seemed the least rattled out of the three of them. Though she still had to let go of his arm; her grip was starting to hurt.

"I can't believe they'd think about us like that," Wendy muttered. "We're not bad people. Deputy Stonewick...he...he drove me to the Shack after dad chased away the thing. They were the first to respond."

"And they're going to kill us because we know too much?" Mabel added. The ends of her sleeves were now folded to help cool her sweaty palms. The engine room had felt like an oven and the hold's chill was a welcoming relief.

"Maybe it's just some metaphorical stuff they like to say a lot," Dipper said. Before he was aware of it, he was pacing the grated steel floor. "We're just letting this get to our heads. They're not really going to hurt us."

"Yet," his sister continued, control slowly disappearing from her tone. Much like a shot of adrenaline, her joviality was petering out fast. "You heard what they said. They'll try to silence us like the mob in _Ducktective_!"

Dipper grabbed her shoulders and shook her with enough force to make her hair fall over her face. "Mabel! We survived Bill, Wierdmaggedon, and a hundred other monsters that could have ripped us apart easy. This isn't the first time our lives are on the line, right? Remember those government agents? Compared to them, how can we be intimidated by three low-ranking cops? I mean, what can they really do to us?"

"Um, kill us," the redhead deadpanned.

The male twin shook his head. He reached over and wrenched the lid free off the pyrotechnics crate.

"Bro-bro, what are you doing?"

Dipper pocketed five flares and began unhooking the lid on a metal box—one of many—kept on the shelf. This fish hold had effectively been converted into a supply stash and he was determined to siphon what was needed. He hoped Officers Stonewick, Vanchetti, and Benning didn't keep inventory of what they were hoarding here. Most of it probably came from the police depot and knowing the Gravity Falls police, they could care less if a rocket launcher went missing.

"Sheriff Blubs isn't crazy enough to let three of his own go all out like this," Dipper began, his hand digging into the box and yielding yellow shotgun shells. Or they looked like shotgun shells. The words _Dragon's Breath_ was printed on the casing. "But I doubt he could muscle them out of it."

"Dipper, maybe _they_ could've muscled him and Deputy Durland to stay out of their business," Mabel raised.

"You have a point there." Dipper noticed Wendy peering through the porthole. "So they call this monster the 'Grass-Man', huh."

A dejected sigh. The eldest of the three slumped down onto her rear. "Yeah. It started showing up around here recently, around a month ago. Been making hell for dad and the other loggers. Trashed outer-lying homes like ours. Wrecking campsites. At least dad chased it off. Then Deputy Stonewick showed up."

"Do you think he's somehow related?"

"He took dad's statement and drove me to the Shack. He even helped me settle into the attic room. He was a really cool guy, cracked some good jokes, even paid a visit a couple times to check up on me and Soos. Made moving easier."

So much for subtlety, Dipper thought. Wendy sounded betrayed. Because she most probably was. Whoever this new deputy was, he had played with her trust and—like Robbie all those summers ago—tosses her out like a used napkin. If there was any ever determination for him to get something done, whether it was Mabel comparing their height or his classmates picking at his physique, then seeing a close friend looking so down made him want to do everything he could to do to get something done.

Then again, he had to reconsider what she just said about Deputy Stonewick. What sane resident of Gravity Falls—let alone cop—would willingly pay a visit to the Shack if not to buy something? Even after Wierdmaggedon, who still would? Perhaps he was just being nice. If not, he was good at masking it. Or he was scouting...

"Guys, let's head back to town," he said with a touch of finality that made his sister stare at him. "We have some work to do."

"Broseph, don't do anything stupid," Mabel warned.

"No. I'm not going to. I'm going to the library and look up on this Grass-Man or anything related to it." It was disappointing though that there was no journal to assist him here. Everything in those pages had all been explored and there was still a lot more to be documented in this county alone. If only their great uncles were here...

"Dipper?" It was Wendy. She looked just as concerned. "I know that you're trying to make me feel better. And I appreciate it. But better safe than sorry."

"The library's pretty safe," the male twin deflected.

"Let's just head back to the Shack first. I could use a breather."

"Me, too."

"Fine," Dipper acquiesced as he pocketed the yellow shells. He ascended to the deck and scouted the trail that led to this little hideaway. Come to think of it, how the hell did a dilapidated fishing boat end up all the way up here?

* * *

Dipper had been shaken from his musings when Mabel yanked him off the trail and into a bush. Her hand clamped down on his mouth before he could protest. Wendy was pressed against the bark above them. He looked up at her then at Mabel who let go and only nodded.

The twins carefully pushed against the bush until they felt hidden behind the leafage. The golf cart was a few minutes away but up ahead was a tiny glade where a squad car had been parked. The three officers were huddled around the trunk.

* * *

"Tracking dry leaves isn't easy, sir," Horace groused.

Hector rounded the car after Stonewick bolted down the hatch. "Boss, you think the Grass-Man will hit the Mystery Shack next?"

Vernon sighed, musing. "There are so many places here that are potential targets. All we've got now is luck. We're packed but we'll be shooting blind." He stopped himself then stared into the tree line while Vanchetti and Benning squeezed into the back seat.

* * *

Wendy eased her head back. Dipper held his breath and he was sure Mabel did too. Deputy Stonewick was looking directly at them. Or where they were hiding. He seemed to be seeing through the shrubbery but he couldn't be sure. He had to admit though that the way his pupils pierced the dark was unsettling. Did he have experience with the weirdness? Surely, there were sister towns to Gravity Falls that also had its own basket of mysteries.

Stonewick took a step towards them. Dipper squeezed Mabel's hand. _Don't move_ , came the soundless words.

* * *

Vernon stopped short of the tree line and shrugged. "Huh."

He turned on his heels and slipped into the driver's seat. He may have been fresh off the academy three years ago but he knew when they were being trailed. He could hear them when the two idiots in the backseat weren't bickering.

"I know you're out there, kids," he whispered under the hum of the diesel engine.

* * *

The squad car pulled out of the glade, backing up through the woods until it disappeared behind the wall of timber striping before the highway. Dipper crawled out of the bush and found himself standing where the three officers had been, staring down the tracks that snaked between the trees.

Mabel tugged at his arm. "Come on, Dip. We have to go. You've got the keys, right?"

"The golf cart should be nearby, right, Dipper?"

Dipper nodded, his head still craned towards the trees. These cops were now a danger to the three of them as much as they thought themselves protectors of the town.

* * *

 _"I said drop your weapons!"_

 _"Begone, ye foul minions!"_

 _The fanatic raises his gun. Vanchetti squeezes once over Benning's shoulder. A twelve-gauge slug smashes into the suspect's chest. Horace gapes in horror as his only accomplice looms over the still man whose beige shirt darkened with crimson._

 _"Heck! I had him! He was going to put his gun down!"_

 _"He was going to shoot you, Horse! I saved your life!"_

 _"But, but we had him."_

 _"Don't fool yourself, man!" Hector shoves Benning and glares. "Get a grip! We are dead if we don't fight back. Screw protocol; our own lives are on the line right now."_

 _Horace shakes his head. "You're right. You're right." He breaths slowly then flips the switch on his carbine from semi to full-automatic._

 _"Come on. We might be able to get out this way," Hector nudges as they pass through the wide church hall into a corridor adorned with banners. He pauses briefly to look up at the image of an odd triangle deity. "Goddamn cultists."_

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 21, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED/UPDATED: March 10, 2017**

 **UPLOADED: March 9, 2017**

 **NOTE: I'm grateful for the support for this fic, especially to _SGA_. Also, thanks to _NecroticHate_ for reminding me about Manly Dan. I thought I'd make the lumberjack more even-headed because he'll be playing an important part in the story later on. Can't have him yelling 'manly' things and smashing everything with his gargantuan fists all the time.**

 **As always, keep leaving reviews and pointing out stuff that might help/or is a little too much.**


	5. Chapter 5 - Unnerved, Part 2

**NOTE: Second half.**

* * *

Mabel watched her brother pace the attic floor. She hugged her pillow, wishing Waddles was still around. Alas, time-traveling pigs did not have enduring lifespans. "Dipper, stop it. You're driving me crazy with that."

"Oh, sorry." Dipper craned his head. Mabel wasn't being as Mabel-ly as she almost always was. Those cops really funneled the cheer out of her and it pissed him off. No one does that to his sister and gets away with it. Unless they're buff and could very well beat him up. But that won't stop him from trying to land a punch or two.

Mabel felt her mattress deflate. She turned to see her twin right next to her, eyes wide with concern. "You okay?"

"No," she griped.

Dipper scratched the back of his head. At least she was honest. "Listen, we're going to get to the bottom of this. We're going to show those cops what the real problem is before they do anything horrible. They're just being paranoid."

"Like you?"

She was right on that one, he had to admit. Some of it, at least. He shook his head. "They're _too_ paranoid."

"Right. And you're not right up there with them?"

"Mabel, I'm over that stage." He stopped himself. "Okay, so maybe I evolved out of it."

"You still drool over the newest mystery like it's a crossword puzzle."

"And we always end up on top." Correction. "Okay, almost always."

"Dipper, what do we know anyway?"

"Nothing concrete yet. That's why I'm going to the library. I'll dig for any records of the Grass-Man. I don't remember it being in any of the journals and I don't recall Grunkle Ford mentioning it so that means that it's either fairly recent or must have been really dormant up until now."

"And Wendy?"

"Wendy..." Dipper paused. The redhead had to man the register downstairs just to make up for her absence. Soos was too nice to disappoint; after all, she needed the time to collect her thoughts after eavesdropping from a cramped engine room in the hold of a fishing boat. He looked to the sofa-turned-bedding which was have-buried in a jungle of her own personal effects. It took him a moment to pry his eyes away from the lingerie hanging off one of the clothes hangers. "She can handle herself."

Mabel smirked. Briefly. "Let's be real here, Dipper. We'll be turning sixteen at the end of the summer. Things are getting different and it's...it's all too real."

"What is?"

She flailed her arms. "Everything! Growing up isn't as fun as I thought it was going to be."

Dipper sighed. He patted her on the shoulder and tried to look reassuring. "It was going to happen anyway. Life just starts getting real and more serious and, y'know, not all glittery and whatnot. I mean, it takes awhile to get used to then you realize just how fun life could be even at this stage." He hoped that came out right because he had no idea what he was saying now. He just wanted to see her liven up again.

She puckered her lip in confusion. "I don't get what you mean."

Neither did he. But he could care less so he kept winging it. "Mabel, you're you. You're still the same when we were twelve. Sure, you're kinda ditzy, you're still loud, but that's just part of who you are. Growing up might mean letting go of that but you can still enjoy some of it no matter what happens. Besides, there's so much more out there for you to have fun with, right? So smile for me."

She did. Well, she tried. But, more importantly, she did. And seeing her steel-rimmed teeth sandwiched between lips that went up to her ears was enough.

"That-a-girl!" her twin cheered as he ruffled her scalp. "Now, show me you aren't afraid of any paranoid cops!"

"I'm not scared of no cops."

"Nope. Instead, they should be afraid of us."

Mabel straightened and pumped her fist into the air, nearly hitting the angled ceiling. "Because we know more than they do!"

"Yeah, and stuff!" Dipper still had to find some leverage to use against Stonewick, though. Still, seeing his sister's confidence restored was refreshing. "I'm going to the library."

"I'm coming with!"

Dipper could hear tires screeching in his brain. "Wait, what?"

"You're going to need my help, anyway."

Come to think of it... "I suppose so."

In an instant, she was dragging him off the bed to the door. "Let's go, then!"

Dipper groaned. At least she was happy now.

* * *

Soos had humble intentions in everything he did. Wendy understood that. She could see that in the years she'd known him. So she had to bite down her snark when he asked about her family.

"Dad's doing fine," she managed to say, eyes flipping through the magazine.

"And your brothers?"

"They're staying over at our cousin's place but they have to show up everyday to help rebuild the lodge."

The manager of the Mystery Shack had tucked away his tools and shuffled off somewhere. When Wendy flipped the page, she noticed the fringe of his cap sticking above the letterhead. He was in front of the register with this look of concern. "You holding up okay, dude?"

"I'm fine, Soos. Thanks for asking."

He tilted his head. "You sure?"

Wendy grimaced. Why did he have to be so naive? She knew she couldn't bring herself to lie to him. It would be like tricking a child. Or a man-child. "Fine. Dad and I haven't been on good terms recently."

"Oh. Huh."

"Happy now?"

"You think he, um..."

The redhead planted the magazine on the varnished wood. "Soos, I get how you're trying to help and I'm not being ungrateful. Let's just say that I think he was happy I moved out."

"Oh. Um, okay."

A staccato of steps thundered from the stairs. The door to the residential half of the Shack creaked open. Mabel's head stuck out. "Hey, we're going to the library. We'll be back before sundown."

"Sure," Soos cheerily replied. "Have fun and stay safe, hambone."

"You want to come along, Wendy?"

Wendy shook her head. After what they'd been through this morning, she would rather spend the rest of her day in the relative safety of her workplace. Besides, there were so many things going on in her head and she needed some time off to reorganize her thoughts. So many things were coming down on her at once. "Nah. I think I'll hang back."

"Okay. What do you think is good for dinner?"

Wendy paused. Of course. She lived here now. Either she cook something up or go for take-out. Like mom. "Um, let me think about that." She turned to her boss. "Soos, anything in the fridge?"

He shrugged. "Milk and some other frozen stuff."

"Anything that isn't expired."

"Oh. Just the milk then."

The redhead dropped her magazine with a sigh and made for the kitchen. "I'll go see if we have anything good for the pan."

"Yay! Maybe we're going to have some steak for dinner," Mabel screeched as she bolted across to the exit with a hesitant Dipper in tow.

* * *

 _Vanchetti and Benning follow the staircase down to a culvert. They silently press themselves against the corners of the pair of ancient wooden doors. The former points to the sign above._

 _"What's it say?"_

 _Horace squints his eyes through his visor to read the brief string of Latin carved onto a metal plate. "It says, 'Inner Sanctum – Where He Resides'"_

 _"Guess those extracurricular courses were working out, don't you think?" cracks Hector._

 _Benning offers a brief but relieving chuckle. "My high school had Latin as part of the curriculum. It was one of those high-class schools, you know."_

 _"Alright. Time to end this charade." Hector backs himself against the hinges while his partner does the same across from him._

 _He nods at Horace. Guns are fully loaded, a stinger grenade primed and at the ready. Nothing but silence from the other side. They have no way to tell who could be behind the varnished oak. More fanatics? Deranged clergy? A maniac with a Satanic Bible?_

 _"Thee, two, one..."_

 _The doors fly open. The preacher shoots first._

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 21, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: March 14, 2017**

 **UPLOADED: March 14, 2017**

 **NOTE: Sorry 'bout Waddles. I realised too late what I have done.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Leads, Part 1

**NOTE: I like to keep control over my word count with this fic. So around 1,300 to 2,000 words per chapter is enough. Had to chop this one up too, though.**

* * *

Few people ever frequented the Gravity Falls library. There was little to no one else around save for the librarian and her bored assistant. It made for the perfect atmosphere. So it came as no surprise when Dipper heard shuffling coming from behind the wall of bookshelves surrounding him. He looked up at the tower of books that Mabel had ceremoniously plopped onto their little corner table.

"Are you sure they're all relevant?" he asked, seeing the assortment of titles printed on the inch-thick spines.

Mabel smacked him playfully on the arm. "Bro, you know me. I can be serious, too."

"Right." His sister was still in the process of maturing, all things considered. Dipper wished though that she would grow out of some her quirks that she still retained since they were four. Like being inappropriately loud (even in a library of all places), or pulling disgusting stunts like shoving gummy worms through her nose. That was a shuddery thought.

"Dipper, look!" she suddenly hissed.

"Whoa. How did Grunkle Ford not see this?"

The book was laid on the table, sandwiched between two others that were now insignificant. Printed on the page was a grainy black-and-white photograph of a humanoid shadow stalking a group of unshaven prospectors. The caption was very generic and the rest of the article that followed it cheekily referenced it as an irrefutable Bigfoot sighting. Given how many creatures they've come across in this county alone, Dipper nibbled at the thought of appropriately labeling it as Bigfoot Number Nine.

Mabel whinnied, "Looks creepy."

"You think?"

An hour later and they had already carved through most everything stacked onto their desk. Dipper eased away to let his eyes rest. At the rate he was going, he might develop a migraine, not to mention his neck aching from being hunched over. But it was all worth it. They were getting something solid now. A handful of colorless pictures, unsolved investigations of ransacked campsites, and subtle references to a natural entity that haunted the vast Oregon woodlands—all this was cathartic.

"Huh. Not a single missing person's report with the minutest correlation to it," he mused. "So it doesn't take people then? Does it even bother with animals?"

Mabel shook his shoulder and pointed at the rays of orange sunlight beaming through the glass and lighting up the colors on the faded carpet. It wouldn't be long before night would shroud the town.

"How long have we been here?" he asked as though waking from a daze.

"We should go. Soos is probably closing down and Wendy would be waiting for us."

"Yeah. Let me find my notes. Just gotta write this all down."

"Best to keep it to yourselves," addressed an older voice.

The twins gaped through their mangled fortress of books at Deputy Stonewick. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his burnished patrol jacket, as he stood loosely in the dark. The setting sun cast an intimidating shade over his features even after he had emerged out of the heavy shadows cast by the bookshelves.

"You two seem to have a thing for all things weird," he said.

Mabel looked at her brother before assuming a defiant pout. "What's it to you?"

"Mabel," Dipper scolded. Deputy Stonewick was still a police officer, to be merited respect, even though it seemed he was here to give them something for their trouble.

Vernon approached the desk. Already, he could see references to the monsters he wished he knew how to kill. Alas, constant domestic calls made for little time to do his own research. "The library's closing up in an hour. Best you two head home before dark."

"We can handle ourselves, okay, officer," Dipper replied evenly. "Thanks."

"What are you doing in here, anyway?" Mabel added roughly.

Stonewick flashed them a smile. No sense beating around the bush with these two. They looked determined, in deep in their own little adventure. He couldn't blame them. "I'm here to give you a piece of advice."

The twins steeled themselves when he leaned in close.

"Stay out of this. Go home."

Mabel was about to retort when Dipper pulled her to sit. They watched the officer trudge passed them and through the double doors. Outside, he appeared to glance at something to the side, looking slightly confused, before entering his squad car and driving off.

"The nerve of that cop," the female twin finally spat.

"Well, I mean, he _is_ a cop."

"Dipper, we can't let him talk us down like that. He doesn't know what's out there! He could hurt himself."

"And so could we if we aren't careful. Now help me write down these details so we could get out of here," Dipper ordered before yanking out his pen and jotting down an outline of the Grass-Man's characteristics and potential weaknesses. If the prospectors held it off with what they got over a hundred years ago, then that meant that they found a chink in its armor, and possibly a means to pacify it as it had been largely dormant since.

"Dipper, I think they're going to try and kill it."

"You think I didn't know that?" Every monster had a purpose, a meaning, a cause for their existence, for their deeds. The Grass-Man had been malevolent but why? Dipper intended to find that out before something reckless would happen that could potentially trigger some damaging consequences.

* * *

The sun was setting when the twins checked out through reception. The Shack was a good walk away and they knew they would make it just in time for dark. Only, when they rounded the corner of the sidewalk, passing the same empty street, the road suddenly disappeared behind a mesh of burlap.

The twins screamed until calloused hands clamped down on their mouths and dragged them into the side of a nondescript van that then sped onto the highway.

* * *

Stonewick was alone at the station as the setting sun shown through the blinds, illuminating the messy yellow pad that he purchased from the department store. Every page had since been filled to the brim with all the bizarre incidences that had so far graced his desk in the form of sidelined reports and eyewitness accounts from the only people on the force he could trust. The apparent apathy to everything going on was driving him insane—he thought he'd never consider getting seriously reprimanded to be a relief. Though, he had to admit, at least no one bothered him and his notes.

He whipped through them, skimming over observations, personal comments, questions of reality... On the final few spaces of unwritten paper he could find, he jotted down a detail he had failed to consider up until this point:

 _unnaturally cold for summer_

 _is this normal?_

Stonewick looked across the open doorway down the hall to the thermostat over by dispatch. It was set to near maximum on the red yet Sheriff Blubs had been walking around a few hours ago with five squirrels worth of fur over his torso. He stifled a curse, watching his breath dissipate in a visible cloud of vapor before his face.

 _too cold_

 _oregon shouldnt be this cold_

 _weather is not normal_

Vernon paused. Wait. Something else was not normal. Vanchetti and Benning were supposed to be scoping out potential hotspots for the Grass-Man. He left them the scoped Remington and the station shotgun as well as the more damaging equipment in case it suddenly showed up. Why were they maintaing radio silence for this long? And what the hell were they doing outside the library?

"Don't tell me," he pleaded with the wall clock, "Please don't tell me..." Those idiots were going to do what he was afraid they were going to do.

Stonewick flipped on the switch on his radio. Empty static. He grabbed his phone and hit speed dial. No answer. Before long, he scrambled to his squad car, tossing a brown satchel into the backseat then speeding out of the parking lot unknowingly waking Blubs and Durland in theirs.

The latter rubbed his eyes as he caught the exhaust dissipate around the bend. "Stonewick? What's he up to?"

Blubs shrugged. "Boy probably got another domestic call. So enthusiastic of him."

Durland checked his watch then started the engine. The sun had gone down, the sky now basked in a darkening shade of blues and faint stars. "It's our shift now."

"I brought the crosswords."

"Yeehaw!"

* * *

 _"Jesus Christ."_

 _Hector shoves the unresponsive preacher off the bloodied altar with his boot. Dozens of cuts rivet the surface, mired in blood that had dried too much to be scraped off. Not that it would have even mattered to these lunatics._

 _"Heck, this is...this is..."_

 _"You seeing this, Horse?"_

 _"I've seen more than enough to say that we should be find a way out! Because this isn't an exit!"_

 _The last two remaining SWAT officers gloss over the dead. A dead preacher, his dead flock, dead sacrifices. Flies everywhere. A click and their superiors come hollering through their earpieces._

 _"Entry team, do you copy? Report, report!"_

 _Hector glances at Horace who nods and raises his hand to the dial to tune in. "We copy," he acknowledges slowly. "Multiple downed suspects. No civilians." He pauses to gulp down the lump in his throat. "TAC, we got something here."_

 _Vanchetti stares at the mural behind the altar. He gapes at the disturbingly lifelike image of a shaded equilateral glaring at his soul with its lifeless eye. "What the hell are you?"_

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 25, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: March 22, 2017**

 **UPLOADED: March 22, 2017**

 **NOTE: To _SGA_ , the 'steel-rimmed teeth' refers to retainers, to clarify. Thanks for pointing that out. :) I have friends who still have braces and retainers all the way 'til college (up to age 18) so even I'm wondering if that's normal for their teeth.**

 **Again, thanks for giving this an eye.**


	7. Chapter 7 - Leads, Part 2

Soos cycled through the keys in his hand until he found the key that would lock the front door, effectively closing down business for the day. Time to pass through the back and head home. At the lounge, though, he could already smell something faintly attractive to his stomach. He found Wendy tossing a well-done steak onto the plate on the table, surrounded by three vacant porcelain platters

"Hey, Soos. You want to stick around for dinner? I found enough in the freezer for eight people."

The manager-slash-handyman shook his head. "No can do, Wendy. I gotta head home. Abuelita needs her medication in about an hour."

"Oh." The redhead took off her apron and leaned back against the stove. "How's she doing?"

"She's doing great. She still remembers me, which is a good thing. Can't say the same for grandpa but she only forgot his name."

Wendy cracked a weak smile. Soos always had this air of optimism that weathered the worst of times. She just wished she had the same atmosphere right now. So many things had been happening so fast in such a short span of time that she was beginning to feel belatedly overwhelmed. And the way she stared blankly at the paint peeling off the wall seemed to catch Soos's attention.

"You okay, dude?"

She shook her head, the feeling of helplessly drowning stubbornly swirling in her mind. "I'm fine."

"You sure? 'Cause, uh, I don't know if it's my place to be involved, but you don't seem to be taking things too well, y'know."

A furtive glance came his way. "What do you mean?"

"Your dad."

The redhead sighed. She really can't lie to Soos. "I told you. Dad and I...have been having it rough lately. He's been on my case for months, expecting me to act like an adult my age. I just turned eighteen! I mean, come on. It's not easy and I still work here because I really need the money now. Just because dad thinks that he could fell a tree without an axe makes him think that I can eke out on my own in the wild at this stage. I can do on my own when it comes to camping but taking it to that level of independence is just beyond me, you know?

He just keeps pushing and pushing without even stopping to think that I don't want being pushed. I just need support; that's all I ask. Not some 'manly' overture on being a Corduroy. Prop me up; don't just toss me out there with a matchstick and expect me not to start a forest fire! Why can't he do that with the boys? What, 'cause they're not old enough? 'Cause they don't remind him too much of mom? It's just so stressful!"

Wendy paused to catch her breath. When she did, she felt something wet drop down to her shirt. She wiped her face clean from the tears that were welling up. Soos was already on the table, munching on a slab of steak, face encased in rapt attention.

She sniffled. "Sorry to break apart like that. Growing up is just...it takes a lot of you."

"You can do it, dude." He chuckled with meat still grinding in his teeth. "Who could pull off those stunts at fifteen, you know? Not to mention how you can beat up some monster or two every now and then. Yeah, who else could do that?"

That elicited a giggle. "It's just natural. You find yourself in a pickle and you...you either stand up and fight or be smart and get out while you still can."

"Sounds a lot like Dipper."

"You think?"

"Yeah, dude. You guys make an awesome tag-team."

"Thanks, Soos. That's, that's really helpful."

"No problem." He stood up to leave.

Wendy sat back, feeling a little lighter. She laughed at herself at finally realizing a little late than most that Soos was one of the biggest motivators whenever anyone of them were down. She watched him leave through the door then saw the three mangled T-bones piled on the plate.

"Typical Soos," she sighed with a chuckle. Time to cook three more steaks.

* * *

Wendy stared at the kitchen wall. She had to be honest with herself. Being alone at the Mystery Shack at this time of night thoroughly creeped her out. She wondered how the hell Stan managed this business by himself for decades. The random cracks from the rickety floorboards began to make the hairs on her skin rise and she had to keep the television running just so she wouldn't feel alone. It felt like living in a haunted house.

"Damn it, guys. Where the hell are you?" she muttered after glancing at her watch for the nth time. It was getting close to two hours after sundown. It was dark out and the crickets were getting to her. Something wasn't right.

She had been calling them on their phone, sending them texts. Where the hell were they? She wouldn't be surprised if Dipper segued into another mystery hunt, dragging Mabel with him, but they could have at least let her know. A simple text would do. She was worried sick.

"Okay. Cool, calm, and collected," she muttered to herself. "They'll be back before midnight. Yeah. Before midnight. And we can all relax."

The redhead plopped onto the old yellow chair with a plate of steaming steak forked between garnish and sauce. She'd seen the movie playing tonight a dozen times which made her reach for the remote. That was when her cell rang. Dipper.

Wendy could barely keep from sounding distressed. "Yo, dude! You off on an adventure or something?"

"Uh, y-yeah. Sort of." What intended as a laugh came off as a nervous chuckle. "Um, y-you holding up, okay?"

"I could ask you the same thing." She had already muted the TV and was sitting straight. "Where are you?"

"You remember the fishing boat we found this morning?"

Oh God. "Yeah."

"Uh, you might want to come over." There was a short break. Wendy pressed her phone against her ears until she could hear something shuffling in the background. Heavy footsteps on steel. Too heavy for a fifteen-year-old. That was all she needed. "Mabel and I, uh...we f-found something...big. Um, about the, uh, Grass-Man, so..."

"Don't worry, dude. I'm on my way."

"Oh. Didn't think you'd jump on board that easily."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. We're f-fine. So, um, s-see you later, then."

The line clicked off and the redhead swore to herself she could hear someone chatting faintly behind the noise. She was no idiot. She knew trouble at the first hints. Since Wierdmaggedon, she'd been keeping her senses up and this was one of those times where they were paying off.

Wendy packed the rest of the food into the fridge and began rummaging in the attic. By half-passed eight, she bolted down the Shack and left with the Soos's hatchet, a leaf-blower, and Mabel's grappling hook. The golf cart backed onto the gravel and sped down the highway. It was freezing which was bothersome but Wendy couldn't care about that. She had to find the twins, her closest friends at the moment.

* * *

 _Vanchetti carefully wrests the manuscript from the preacher's hands. He flips through the pages until he hears Benning regurgitate into the corner. He turns to find him with his face mask pulled down to his neck._

 _"You okay, Horse?"_

 _"No. No, I'm not." Horace glares at his companion. "We just killed over a dozen people, Heck. About time I threw up from that!"_

 _"Man up, man! You're SWAT! You remember those junkies we busted in Vermont? Some of those guys were messed up beyond comparison."_

 _"Beyond comparison?" Benning gestures at the inner sanctum, now desecrated by two rogue SWAT operatives. "Compared to this? We didn't even give them a chance to surrender!"_

 _"They wouldn't!" Vanchetti hollers. He smacks the blasphemous bible against his partner's blood-stained vest. "They weren't thinking twice about killing us!"_

 _Horace reluctantly wrests away the book. He begins to read, then glosses over the texts until he gasps. "Holy Jesus. This is something demonic..."_

 _"I know." Hector angles his head at the mural, noting the mass of symbols that he wishes he could decipher. "Hey, can you read all this stuff? Here on the wall."_

 _Benning runs his gloved hand over the markings on the circle that surrounds the triangular figure. He shakes his head. "I wish I could. Look, Heck, it's not our place to go detective on this."_

 _"Well, we are now." Vanchetti nudges at the manuscript. "What'd you find in Satan's little Latin bible?"_

 _"It's not Satan, that's for sure. Just some summoning crap and a different name that keeps popping up."_

 _"Beelzebub?"_

 _"Bill."_

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 25, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: March 30, 2017**

 **UPLOADED: March 30, 2017**

 **NOTE: I'm experimenting with Wendy's character and her often overlooked interaction with Soos. Do let me know if it's working. Again, thanks for the support. Reviews and critiques would be nice.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Questions

**NOTE: Hi. Sorry for the delay. Work got in the way. :D**

 **Also, this chapter is a bit longer than the others.**

* * *

 _A few hours earlier..._

Dipper wiggled again until the pain in his wrists made him give up. These zip-ties were tight and it hurt the more he struggled against them. The sack over his head smelled of dry potatoes and he had to gulp down some air to keep down the gnawing gag reflex.

"Mabel, can you hear me?" he called. What came out through the burlap was muffled but hearing his sister's sniveling from across him confirmed that she did.

Dipper edged himself closer to what he believed was the backseat in this empty compartment of a moving vehicle. The twins grunted every time it ran over a bump in the road. He growled in frustration. They were captives, taken from the street, bound like hostages, and taken to a place where... He didn't want to think about it. He was plain furious. Helplessly furious. And afraid. Downright scared out of his underwear.

"Crap. Is this what it's like to get kidnapped by pedophiles?" he muttered as he felt the vehicle they were in rumble against the asphalt.

* * *

"This is bad. This is bad, Heck."

"Well, gee, Horse. You got a better idea?"

The van sped out of the highway, bouncing against clumps of hardened soil. Benning leaned over the headrest on the passenger's seat. He tried to sound apologetic. "Sorry to do this to you, kids."

The twins gargled out some sort of noise in reply.

"Look, Horse," Vanchetti began as he made the sharp turn that led to their little parking glen in the woods a good mile away from the town center. "I'm not feeling really innocent here. I'm guilty as hell. But we got to do what we got to do."

His partner nervously shook his head. "I hope to God our guts are right on this one. I mean, what if we're wrong? What if we screwed up big time? What then?"

Horace groaned. "You don't have to remind me about the risks we're taking, man. We have to protect the town and these kids know all the answers."

"Hopefully."

* * *

The next thing Dipper knew, he was being yanked off the floor and made to stand on what felt like grass. The sack came off his head and he gasped, looking around. Mabel looked panicked, and rightfully so. They were both freaked out beyond measure. But slowly, they began to register where the were. They had been through this thick of the woods before. Recently. This morning.

"Where are you taking us?" It came off rather roughly but Dipper felt good about it.

"Shut up and keep walking," Officer Vanchetti ordered, the black scoped hunting rifle tucked between his arms. A bandolier hung loosely over his shoulder, bearing a handful of packed pouches.

"We're not going to shut up!" Mabel hollered. "You think we're afraid of you?"

"You think we're not above doing some really nasty things just to set things right?" snapped Officer Benning who had already discarded the burlap sacks into the back of the van. He slung a weathered shotgun behind him after he locked the vehicle.

"You're supposed to be cops!" Dipper jabbed. "You're technically kidnapping us."

"Well, ain't that obvious?" Hector grumbled as he cut through a bush, revealing the trail that led to the fishing boat.

The twins were stubborn but they had to budge. Dipper put one foot in front of the other, nudging Mabel with his shoulder to do the same. Officer Benning had their bags—and their research—while Officer Vanchetti had the firepower to start a shootout. The latter led the way while former prodded them on.

"What do you want with us, anyway?" Mabel demanded as they trudged through hardening muck.

"You'll find out soon enough. Now behave."

"We've been through worse," Dipper bluffed. He stiffened. Both from how weak that came out and how it was freezing out here. It was supposed to be summer yet it felt like autumn out here. Probably because it was dusk and they were high up in the woods but he doubted it. It shouldn't be this cold, even at this altitude.

"Don't make me laugh, boy," Hector sneered. "So behave. Don't make me say that again."

They continued in silence until they reached the fishing boat. Flashlights skimmed over the vessel, illuminating the crusted vines snaked in and above the hull. The twins had not expected to be helped up onto the deck but they tried to stay as close as possible. It was painfully cold out here and the fish hold was the warmest space they found themselves in.

Light soon spread across the room, reflecting brightly against the grimy walls. Vanchetti hung the handheld oil lamp on an immobile fish hook. Benning lit another one and set it on the table, dispelling much of the dark.

Dipper and Mabel sat cross-legged against the door to the engine room. Their hands were still bound behind their backs and it was taking a strain on their shoulders. Dipper was shocked by how cold Mabel's fingers were and he had to look her over to make sure she wasn't either sick or pale.

"Alright," Officer Vanchetti began. "I don't want to get rough with you, kids. So be honest."

"We're just trying to help the town," Mabel argued.

"I'd rather you play nice," Officer Benning ordered. "Hector's not fond of playing the good cop."

"You're not accusing us of anything," Dipper hissed through clenched teeth. He was scared pants-less. More so for Mabel. But he had weathered so much worse than this. And given their predicament, it seemed he had to.

Hector leaned in close, looking more desperate than angry. "Accusing you? _Au contraire_ , I just need a confession. What do you know about that cult? How many of them are there, hmm? In this backwater town?"

The twins stared. At him then at each other. What cult?

* * *

"I say we give them one phone call," Benning suggested.

"What for?" Vanchetti snarled. The kids were free of their ties but had to be 'incarcerated' in the engine room. He didn't want to admit it but he felt genuinely crappy that they were doing this. He felt much worse when he saw the red lines on their wrists from the zip-ties. Still, he had to find out just how big they were in this town and what secrets they were keeping. So far, their questioning was fruitless.

They had no idea, they said. There was no cult, they said. He wasn't buying it. He couldn't buy it. They were hiding something. He had to know. They, as law enforcers, had to know. At the end of it, however, the whole interrogation only made them feel less like law enforcement which bitterly sank deep in the pit of his stomach.

Horace handed him his phone. "Tell them to call their friend. That Corduroy girl. She's got a better head at this. And she's a local, too."

It took a minute before Hector relented. "I guess you have a point there."

"Then we better hurry while the signal's still good."

Hector took the phone and went for the door. He stopped as his hand rested over the handle. "How are you so calm, Horse?"

Benning shrugged. "To be honest with you, Heck, I'm scared out of my underwear right now."

"You and me both, buddy."

* * *

 _Later that evening..._

Wendy eased the golf cart into the parking space Dipper had carved up this morning. As soon as she shut off the headlights, the rest of her surroundings were shrouded in absolute darkness. She felt around for the hatchet as well as the duffel bag where she had kept most of everything else. Her free hand wormed around the industrial torchlight. It was dark and freezing trudging through the woods but she knew without a doubt that the twins were in danger. Dipper was a horrible liar.

As she made her way up the mountain, she could not deny the dread that made her hairs stand on end. She couldn't explain it away but she was baffled at how nervous she was. How frightened she was. These woods were her home most of her life yet it felt as though she was an unwanted guest, a rude trespasser deserving to be viciously ejected.

There was a loud whistle and Wendy stopped to check. The beam of her torch flashed between the trees before she continued. It was possible that whoever took Dipper and Mabel was also tracking her. She couldn't be sure. It just didn't feel human. Somewhat animalistic in nature but it was didn't feel like any animal she could handle. Was it...

"Grass-Man?" she whispered at the dark. "A-are you there?"

Wendy was now beyond calm and collected. She was frantic. Nonetheless, she ground her boots in the mud and gripped her sides as the freezing winds brushed against her bare hands and neck.

"Why is it so damn cold? It's not supposed to be like this."

Before long, she reached the boat. It looked empty. Like a hulking mass enticing curious onlookers. The redhead knew better. Her gut was screaming; the twins were in there. They had to be. Wendy gripped the hatchet as tight as she could and made her way to the log that served as the access point to the deck. She hurried to it; she didn't like being watched in those woods. The boat was the only viable shelter up here and she doubt any monster of such size and girth as the Grass-Man would be able to seep into it. Or she could be wrong.

Wendy landed on the deck with a thud, impressed at herself for being able to hold two objects at the same time and carry a duffel bag while assailing a solid wall. Her pride was short lived when she saw two dark shapes standing in front of her, their faces briefly illuminated by the phone lights in their hands.

"Uh-oh."

"About time you showed up," Vanchetti crowed.

They disarmed her but not without a fight. Wendy thrashed and swung herself around in the pitch darkness until the weight of two full bodies pinned her against the riveted steel. The duffel bag was pried off her shoulder and she felt herself being dragged into the fish hold, screaming and struggling to no avail.

* * *

Stonewick eased his foot on the accelerator. Another bust. He was loosing most of his self-control at this point. He had already visited the Mystery Shack, rounded the territory, checking for any points of entry, any signs of a break-in. The place was locked down. No one was home. Then he sped to 412 Gopher Lane. Then the Gravity Falls Public Pool. Then three other places that were isolated enough to be potential targets.

All six locations tagged as possible hotspots for the Grass-Man and still no sign of his two subordinates. His two charges. He pounded his fists against the steering wheel as the squad car bulleted through the open highway. They were his responsibility and they were going rogue.

"Damn it!" he growled.

He was dredging for options. If they weren't actively baiting their monster, then where else could they have possibly gone? Somewhere unassuming, disconnected. Somewhere no one, not even him, would think to look—

Stonewick's eyes widened as he slowed down in front of the dirt path that led into the woods. His headlights illuminated the sodden ground as the evening was in full swing. From where he sat, he could minutely tell the difference in tire treads on the mud. Of course.

"Son of a... The boat!"

* * *

The door swung slightly and Wendy was shoved into the dark. She landed on something soft. Someone soft, actually.

"Wendy?"

"Guys?"

"Wendy! Oh God." Even in the dark, Mabel somehow managed to squeeze the life out of her in an embrace that she thought wouldn't complete in a cramped space as this.

Three heavy taps rang through the steel door. "You kids comfortable in there?"

"You can't do this to us!" Wendy screamed.

"Yes we can!" Vanchetti growled. "Because you are going to answer all our questions or you'll never see the light of day!"

"You're crazy!" Dipper added furiously.

"Just let us out and we'll try to help in any way we can," Mabel said coolly. She could feel the other two staring at her.

Vanchetti kicked the door. "Shut up! Just...shut up!"

It was then that Benning decided to take over. "Make this easy on yourselves, please. There's no point in lying! We know you're with those cultists."

"What cultists?" the three teens practically screamed.

* * *

Stonewick trudged up the path to their stash with such haste that he was exhausted halfway up the mountain. He leaned against a tree to catch his breath. He could feel his veins throbbing in his feet and up his temples, sweat beading down his head. His body was heating up—which was a good thing compared to how utterly freezing it was up here.

There was a loud whistling behind him and he snapped towards the source, torch raised at the slope he had to climb. The whistling seemed to be moving around him, as leaves began to rustle in the dark.

"Oh God no..."

Vernon knew he was not alone here. He had to get to the boat quick. He breathed slow and began trudging up the path as fast as he could. It was dark and he could feel the hairs on his skin standing stiff. For all he knew, the Grass-Man was tracking him right now.

* * *

 _Vanchetti swallows his own spittle at the mention of his name and that of his partner. He looks over to Benning who fidgets in his chair. Both of them gaze at the varnished oak of the paper-laden table until the deputy chief ends his tirade with a stern warning._

 _"You're both good men," he says quietly as he fills his glass with the water from the dispenser in the corner. "Half the city wants your heads. Do you understand that, boys?"_

 _"Yes, sir," the officers chorus._

 _"Lucky for you, we're the other half that would lobby for some rightly deserved medals." The deputy chief ignores the glances thrown his way. "Your case is already up with the DA. It'll take some time and I'm not giving you any guarantees. The best I could do is make the transition easy."_

 _Horace clears his throat before speaking. "Sir, where are we being transferred?"_

 _"Oregon."_

 _"Why there?" Hector asks._

 _"Because that's far away from here. Best to keep you boys out of reach from an angry mob while we try to sort out this mess." He looks at the two surviving SWAT operatives and sighs. "I'm sounding like a broken record when I tell you that you're both good men. Very dedicated."_

 _"We did our job, sir," Horace says._

 _Hector straightens himself on his seat and adjusts his collar. "It was either them or us, sir. We could not have gone through with it another way."_

 _"I sympathize with you. I've been there before. But we have twenty-six bodies in the morgue riddled with bullets from your guns. Not to mention a state that's demanding answers for a 'massacre'." He eyes them again before continuing. "Believe me when I tell you that I'm on your side."_

 _"So," Benning interjects. "Oregon?"_

 _The deputy chief settles into his chair. "Gravity Falls, Oregon."_

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: March 2, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: May 13, 2017**

 **UPLOADED: May 13, 2017**

 **NOTE: I was hanging out with a friend of mine, who is also here on FFN, and we were browsing some of my other fics on her phone. Then I remembered that I had to update this one because I had a chapter typed up, just not edited. Now that I have the weekend off, I finally did.**


	9. Chapter 9 - Sardined

**NOTE: Hi. It's been awhile. A lot of things got in the way. Sorry to make anyone wait but here is the next chapter.**

* * *

"We don't know what you're talking about!" Wendy practically screamed.

"Quit lying, kid!" Hector hollered back.

If it had not been for the metal door held in place, he would have strangled the life out of her. The lack of sleep and frustration that followed from this mess of an interrogation was coming to a head and he genuinely hoped to not reach that boiling point that would cost any cop his badge. Good thing Horace was there to help him put a lid on it. Or tried to.

"There is no cult!" Dipper yelled. "Never was one!"

"Is the Blind Eye even a cult?" Mabel asked softly. She could feel Wendy shuffling close to her in the dark.

"I don't think they were. They didn't really worship anything, just followed some messed up principles," she whispered back. They both hoped that their interrogators didn't hear that detail.

"We could do this all night," Benning growled from the other side.

Underneath the threat, the teens could overhear Vanchetti tiredly mutter, "I don't think I can..."

* * *

Stonewick saw the orange glow from the broken portholes on the hull. Clutching the satchel, he leaped atop the log and stumbled onto the deck. He could hear his two subordinates bickering down below. The deputy could not contain his anger when he dropped down through the open hatch.

"Boss?"

"Sir!"

"What in the goddamn have you two idiots done!?" snapped Vernon.

* * *

The argument was loud but it became clear whose voice was the loudest. Another moment later, the door screeched and was wrenched open as lamplight inundated the three teens.

"Oh my God, kids," Vernon breathed. "Come on, now. I've got everything under control. This was all just a big misunderstanding." He was not surprised though when Wendy swatted his hand away.

"Misunderstanding!?" she hollered, sleeves rolled up and fists clenched. "You locked us in there, you bastards!"

"This is police brutality!" Mabel added.

Dipper's balled fist flew before Stonewick could see it. By then, the was holding the him back while Vanchetti rumbled in agony on the floor with both his arms sandwiched between his thighs. "That's for kidnapping us, you son of a bitch!"

"That's enough! All of you!" Vernon growled, thrusting the boy against his sister as he stood between the fuming redhead and his two subordinates.

"Sir, we were just trying to...gauge some info—" Benning was quickly cut off by the fiery pupils of his supervisor.

"Benning, Vanchetti, stand down," came the calm reply. If it weren't for Stonewick's last vestige of patience, he would have ripped them through and through. "You two have gone off your rocker. What did I say?"

"Sir?"

Vernon's boot slammed against the floor. "Goddamnit, Benning! What did I tell the both of you? What is it!?"

"No going rogue," Hector grumbled, one hand on the table while the other covered his crotch.

"Yet look at what you both did."

"Hey, don't act like you're clean in all of this!" Mabel sneered.

Vernon seethed through his teeth. "Kid, I wish I was." He swiped all the junk—including the rifle—cleanly to the side. Then he haphazardly emptied the satchel over it. Immediately, the headlines of the various newspaper clippings enraptured everyone else in the room.

"Sir? Are those..." Benning felt his throat go dry upon seeing his face and that of his partner printed in color under the headline 'SWAT SURVIVORS POSSIBLE SUSPECTS IN MASSACRE'.

"You think I didn't know?" Stonewick said, raising the incriminating article against the industrial lamp for all to see. "You both sure did a hell of a job putting down the Church of Delta Aurum."

Already, Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy hovered over the evidence. "Church of Delta Aurum?" Dipper couldn't believe his eyes. He heard gasps but he could care less whether they were from either Mabel or Wendy because as far as the three of them were concerned, there actually was a cult. Knowing who was at the center of it only twisted his gut.

"This is messed up," the redhead breathed.

"They worshipped... _him_?" Mabel muttered in total disbelief.

Stonewick's penumbra draped over the clippings. "What do you kids know about Delta Aurum?"

Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Over here, we just called him Bill."

"I knew you kids knew something," Vanchetti sneered as Benning set him against the wall.

"You could have just asked nicely, you know," Mabel growled.

"Look, we were just trying to make sure—"

Wendy cut Horace off. "By locking us up like that? Are you guys high!?"

Stonewick blocked the redhead from inching closer. "That's enough. We've all been through a rough day."

"Understatement of the century," she snorted.

"Be grateful we didn't shoot you," Vanchetti hissed.

"I said that's enough!" Vernon tossed Dipper his bag and went to drag one of the crates off the wall and into the center of the room. "The Grass-Man is out there, just waiting for any one of us to step outside. And like hell am I letting any one of us here going out even for a piss. That puts us in an interesting predicament, don't you think?"

"Great. Sardined in a tin can, huh," Benning crowed. "That _thing_ is outside. It's been tracking us the whole time."

Stonewick shook his head. "Look, I know it's a little hasty but I don't see any other way we can get through this."

"What? Band together?" Dipper said as he extracted his yellow pad.

"Anything else you'd be willing to suggest?"

The teens chorused agreement. Vernon glanced at his subordinates nodding slightly. "Good. Now, to let you all know, this boat right here is probably the only thing keeping us from being eaten up by that damn tree monster out...there... What the hell...?"

The deputy slowly locked his gaze towards the shattered porthole.

"Sir?"

"Boss, what is it?"

Vernon wordlessly neared the wall. Wendy came up beside him to ask what was wrong until she herself saw what was outside. Her jaw never felt so slack.

"It's June, right?" Stonewick asked.

"Yeah," she said, memories of Wierdmaggedon once again fresh on her mind.

"I take it this isn't really that normal, huh."

The redhead gawked at him, her breath now materializing in a translucent vapor cloud in front of her face. "We don't get snow until November."

* * *

 _Vanchetti sits quietly in the back of the bus. Benning idles beside him, gripping but refusing to drink his Starbucks latte. Outside their window, the steel towers of New York City fade behind the thickening thunderclouds. They bounce and rumble in the back until they reach the interstate._

 _"So...new post, huh," Horace says shakily._

 _"Not the best bump in our careers if you ask me," Hector mumbles back._

 _"I mean, it could've been worse, you know."_

 _"Yeah. We could be in our own little freezer in the morgue."_

 _Benning carefully sips at his drink. "Well, I'm sure Oregon wouldn't be as bad. I mean, it's all trees and wildlife. We could just be park rangers for a couple months, you know."_

 _Vanchetti nods slightly. "If that's our vacation, I'm taking it."_

 _"Yeah. I mean what could possibly go wrong in Gravity Falls?" Horace forces out a chuckle. "I mean, it's not like we'll run into Bigfoot or some wild baloney like that, right?"_

 _Hector grins. "Yeah. That'd be quite the paid leave."_

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: March 11, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: September 12, 2017**

 **INITIALLY UPLOADED: June 20, 2017**


End file.
